Solyanka, Better than Pot Pie
by empathy-and-apathy
Summary: This little number was requested by a nice little anon with the prompt of: "The boys were watching Food Network and making ideas for random meals to cook all which make Natasha'a stomach turn. "I'm Russian, my system is not designed for… for… THAT" she points at the TV as the boys took notes on the ingredients." Clintasha and goodness.


**A/N: This little number was requested by a nice little anon with the prompt of:**

**_"The boys were watching Food Network and making ideas for random meals to cook all which make Natasha'a stomach turn. "I'm Russian, my system is not designed for... for... THAT" she points at the TV as the boys took notes on the ingredients."_**

**Well, anon, and anyone else who reads this, I hope you enjoy this bit of fluff.**

* * *

It was Tuesday. And It was cold, really, really cold. New York City had a high of 0 degrees fahrenheit with a windchill of -20. Even Natasha wasn't looking to go outside anytime soon. As it turned out, five out of the six Avengers were at the tower, save for Thor who was still on Asgard dealing with Loki probably.

Each of them had separate floors, but Tony suspected either Clint's or Natasha's went relatively untouched.

Clint had somehow convinced Natasha that they should spend some time with the team, she wasn't really a people person but _If you don't talk to them how do you know if you can trust them? _Clint asked, and she knew he was right. She put on the happiest face that she herself possessed, not one of her cover identities like Natalie Rushman, and headed down to the common floor shortly after Clint.

There was a kitchenette there, there were kitchen everywhere in the tower, and she went to make herself coffee.

"Romanoff!"

Natasha sighed at the sound of Tony's voice. He was a genius and good in a time of battle, but she hadn't quite warmed up to his sparkling personality. She walked out from behind the wall and saw Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Clint sitting in front of the tv. Nothing was unusual except for the fact that they were watching the Food Network.

"What, Stark?" She asked almost impatiently.

"Just wanted to say good morning." He said incredulously. Before he turned back to the tv he asked another question. "Say, do you cook?"

Clint had to hide a smirk, and Natasha shot him a look before looking back at Tony.

"No, not really. At least nothing that Barton would call food."

Tony looked between the two assassins and decided not to prod the subject just yet. Currently on the tv screen, a chef dressed in a red plaid shirt, light wash jeans and cowboy boots looked like he was overdoing it just a bit with the country look.

_"...and behind me is a Hex Sign. Now to most people that sounds like some sort of supernatural thing, but in reality it's a form of Pennsylvania Dutch folk art. If you ever find yourself in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, you might happen upon one of these hanging from a barn."_

"It just looks like to chickens staring at each other to me." Clint said, and he only noticed Natasha was behind him when she hit him on the back of the head. He moved over on the couch so she could sit beside him.

When the tv chef finally got around to explaining the recipe he'd be making that day, Steve already had out a notebook, he had the neatest handwriting of the guys so Tony had elected him "official note-taker."

The dish of the day was Chicken Pot Pie. But not like you're used to with the breading and overall pie like structure, no sir.

"That looks like soup." Bruce said. "Like chicken noodle soup."

"Nah big guy," Tony added, "The noodles are too big and square."

Overall, the recipe didn't seem too difficult but the pretzels the man was also making were a bit too over their heads.

When the final product was showed, Natasha made a face and turned to Clint.

"Нет, спасибо, я не предпочел бы борщ." _(No thanks, I'd rather have borscht.)_

Clint laughed lightly while the others looked on in confusion. Of course Tony was the one to speak.

"If you're going to whisper sweet nothings into birdy's ear, at least do it in English so we know if we should leave the room."

Natasha shot him a look that said _shut the fuck up. _He got it. After another moment, Natasha decided to explain.

"What I said was, no thank you, I'd rather have borscht."

"I don't think this looks too bad." Steve chimed in innocently.

"That's because you're American. I'm Russian, my system is not designed for..._that." _She said as she gestured to the tv as a zoomed in shot of the pot pie filled the screen.

Steve was once again elected to be the shopper for the ingredients, and surprisingly enough, Clint volunteered to go along. On the way back from getting the pot pie ingredients, Clint pulled Steve into a restaurant that Steve had never seen before. It smelled...odd.

A large man stepped around the counter to pat Clint on the back.

"Ах, Клинт! Рад видеть вас снова." _(Ah, Clint! Nice to see you again.) _He said in a deep voice.

"И вы, Грегор." _(And you, Gregor.) _Clint responded.

"The usual then?" Gregor asked.

Clint nodded and the man shouted to the back.

"Unless I'm missing something, that is not Natasha." Gregor said as he rung up the order.

"No, this is Steve, a friend of ours. Natasha isn't a fan of some American foods, so I decided to pick something up for her." Clint answered.

"Good man." Gregor said as he cupped a large hand on Clint's shoulder and smiled. "She deserves someone like you. Don't you think it's about time you pr-"

Clint was saved from hearing the rest of the sentence by his order being called out.

Gregor gave Clint a knowing look but said farewell and he and Steve left the restaurant.

Steve caught a whiff of something...odd. "What is that?"

"Solyanka." Clint said. "Natasha likes it better than borscht. I think it's kinda weird." He added.

After a somewhat awkward pause, Steve figured now's a good a time as any. "What was he going to say before you got the food?"

Clint thought for a second, but he's spent enough time with the Captain to know he can be trusted. "You can keep a secret right?"

Steve nodded.

Clint cleared his throat. "Gregor thinks I should propose to Natasha, along with the rest of the employees there."

Steve was taken aback at that. He heard Tony talk about how he thinks they're together, but Steve just didn't see it. Until now, that is.

"So, you're, dating?" He asked.

Clint chuckled a bit. "Don't let Natasha hear you throwing that word around, but I guess so. Our jobs are dangerous so we don't really label anything, makes it too permanent, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Steve said softly.

When they made it back to the tower, the guys started to prepare the pot pie while Natasha sat back and watched.

She was waiting to eat when the others did so Clint put the food in the fridge.

"What's that smell?" Tony asked as he opened the door.

"Solyanka." Natasha spoke up, she knew the smell without Clint having to tell her what it was. "Better than _pot pie._" She added.

Clint walked over to Natasha while the food cooked and the other three stayed in the kitchen.

"Oh, Tony, before I forget." Steve said quietly and handed him twenty dollars while looking at the two assassins.

Tony smirked and patted Steve on the back before walking out of the room. Then he called over his shoulder, "Told you so, Cap!"


End file.
